


Standing on The Wire

by Gothams_Only_Wolf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7737922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's a mess, Claire Temple is a literal angel, the rest of the Universe is a mess too but YouTube has kitten videos so it's not completely shitty. It's a start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really needed something to get me over a not-so-great weekend and this poofed into being. I think this is my second vent fic with Bucky in it. Ah well. Bucky!Muse seems to get it best. 
> 
> Enjoy~

* * *

For someone to make a choice and knowing that they have options—when they haven't been able to for a long time even if it's just between two three dollar hoodies—makes all the difference. 

Names he knows; Soldat, The Winter Soldier, Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes and Bucky. 

Hoodies at Goodwill; burgundy and blue. 

He decides on Bucky, the burgundy hoodie because it's softer and that he'll figure out the rest when he gets there. 

Bucky does know _one_ other thing; YouTube is nice. Weird sometimes but mostly nice.

* * *

It goes a little something like this after leaving the blond on the river bank: 

Squeak. 

_Squeak._

Plip-plip, plip-plip— **PLOP**. 

"Are you alright?" A woman looks at him in concern with her hands raised as she peers under his fringe. She's got on nice clothes, he notes absently. 

His jaw works before he gasps at the throb in his stomach. "No." 

"I really shouldn't be doing this because I'm at a conference but you need help. Question is, do you want it?" She murmurs lightly as she offers, "My name is Claire Temple. I live in Hell's Kitchen in New York and I'm a registered nurse." 

Soldat shouldn't have an opinion on a place he does not know and yet— 

"Hell's Kitchen is ten blocks of literal hell. What's a gal like you doin' in a place that awful?" The accent his handlers didn't like nor succeeded in getting rid of bubbles to the fore. 

"A Brooklyn boy. I should've known." Claire teases delicately. "Got a name?" 

"I don't... I don't know." Soldat admits frankly. 

"Amnesia. Well then. How about we at least get you some new clothes and get you dry?" Claire asks briskly, still not approaching him. "This needs to be your choice." 

"Clothes, drying off... Does handling wounds fit?" He questions as he slowly limps up to her. 

"I wish it wouldn't but it does," Claire sighs. "I've got a friend who used to need all three at one point." She offers her left hand and he takes it with his right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


	2. Names Are Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I had more of this. So update at butt o'clock in the morning from me? 
> 
> Enjoy~

* * *

Goodwill at four in the afternoon is quiet. Claire lets him lead her to the softer side, hoodies and well-washed tees looking more comfortable than his suit. 

"I have some names but... I don't know which ones belong to me." Soldat says as she digs around in the row of dark jeans. 

"Then you'll have to pick the one that feels right." Claire counters with her no-nonsense tone. 

"Oh." 

She softens as she lays a hand on his right shoulder. "How many are there?" 

"Four." Soldat frowns at the price on the plush black hoodie and moves on. "One feels _wrong_ , one feels distant, one feels like I should answer to it but I don't like the thought of it." 

"And the last?" She gestures to two hoodies, one blue and the other a burgundy. 

"Familiar. Something I can live with, that I have lived with before." 

"Pick a hoodie and decide on the name. Everything else will sort itself out." She suggests with a pat to his right arm as she heads for the men's shoes.

* * *

It's after Goodwill, a shower with peaches 'n cream shampoo and conditioner that Claire sits down with him at the tiny hotel table along with the first aid kit. 

"Okay. What is the name of the man who used my shampoo?" She inquires lightly as she cracks open the white box. 

"Bucky." 

"Just Bucky?" 

"Bucky Soldat. I know last names are important." Bucky replies as he fiddles with the lid of the box as she slowly pulls out slivers of steel from his side and at least three mangled bullets. Her lips thin at the sight of the damage healing in front of her but places a light dressing on the remainder of the wound that will disappear in less than twelve hours. 

"What's Soldat mean?" Claire asks with genuine curiosity. 

"Russian for soldier. I... I think I used to be one. A good one." Bucky scrubs at his face but answers easily enough. "I think I'm either in a whole lot of trouble or I'm going to be. Things are coming... back." 

"Brooklyn boys." She huffs out. "I've met two and both of you seem to think the world has it out for you. Granted, the other Brooklynite I know is Captain America so I'd say it's fairly warranted." 

"Oh," he says and passes out right at the table. Bucky swears that Claire hisses expletives in Spanish at him before he blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


End file.
